Broken
by NicNac32
Summary: Quinn and Rachel are together, and Quinn hurts Rachel's feelings one too many times. Rachel takes her to task. WARNING: D/s, whipping, some hurt/comfort, implied Brittana


**Broken**

Quinn opened her eyes slowly. She was in her bedroom, arms suspended above her head. Nothing new about that. Her feet were held apart by a light, metal spreader bar; that was more unusual but certainly not new either in the months since she and Rachel had been exploring the spicier side of their love life. Rachel stood in front of her, also not usual, but with a considerably cooler look on her face than Quinn was used to seeing.

"Rachel," Quinn began, "I know-"

Rachel laid a silencing finger across Quinn's lips, and Quinn's voice died in her throat at the very serious look in her lover's eyes.

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Quinn," Rachel said calmly. She crossed her arms and surveyed Quinn calmly. "You were the one who told me you wanted to work on not being so cruel. You were the one who asked for my help. You were the one who said that you wanted to stop being such a bully and a bitch, especially to me."

"I-I know," Quinn stammered, trying hard to find a way to explain and feeling very vulnerable. She was really not liking where this appeared to be going.

"In fact, didn't you ask me to help you with that, and I quote, 'by whatever means necessary'?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, but-"

"Did you assume I wouldn't be hurt by what you said to Santana about me in the choir room today? Or did you just not care, Quinn?"

"I wasn't...I just...Santana was being her usual arrogant bitch self, and I-"

"And haven't we had several conversations, in this very room, with you bent over my lap while I paddled your bare ass for this very reason?"

"Er, yeah," Quinn said, a light flush coloring her cheeks at the memories evoked by Rachel's words. She remembered quite vividly the sharp crack of her own wooden backed hair brush on her ass the last time her mouth had gotten the better of her...and how painful it had been to sit for the next couple of days.

The room felt drafty; Quinn felt suddenly very aware of Rachel's clothing and her own nudity. "You know how Santana is, Rachel," she tried again. "Completely full of herself! I was just trying to shut her up for once."

"Quinn, it's in your best interests to shut your mouth. Right now, love." Quinn ignored Rachel's warning, frustration and a hint of desperation in her voice.

"She's just, you know...just such a bitch, sleeping with every guy - and girl - at the school, and I get so sick of her talking shit about anyone. I don't even think Coach Sylvester **likes** her, and she doesn't have half my skill..." Quinn's voice trailed off as she saw Rachel glance past her. She strained to follow Rachel's gaze but her bonds prevented her from turning. It didn't matter, because a moment later, Santana herself stepped in front of Quinn. Quinn's jaw dropped, her eyes widening with shock and horror as her flush deepened.

"I warned you," Rachel said softly.

"Let me down," Quinn said, her voice quivering with emotion. "Now."

"You said any means necessary, Quinn. You said you wanted to stop being so cruel."

"Not like this. Untie me. Now, Rachel."

"'Now' isn't your safe word," Rachel responded, a hint of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth. She paused for a moment, but Quinn clamped her mouth shut tightly. The word "abstinence" would end this instantly, but pride, and perhaps something else, kept her silent.

"Yeah, Quinn, use your safe word, and I'm out of here," Santana added, just a hint of mockery in her voice. Quinn's eyes strayed to the many-tailed leather flogger in Santana's hand, then back to Rachel.

"I didn't agree to this," she said to her lover.

"You agreed to any means necessary. And unless you use your safe word, you are giving implicit consent. We discussed this thoroughly, Quinn." Quinn couldn't help but roll her eyes; Rachel wasn't kidding. After Rachel's extensive internet research, they had indeed spent hours discussing all the ramifications of their agreement. And Quinn knew Rachel was right: if she didn't use her safe word, she was giving consent. But damn if she was about to give Santana the satisfaction of seeing her use her safe word.

"Besides," Rachel went on, and Quinn's stomach flipped over as she saw the first sparks of anger in Rachel's eyes. "What you _should_ have been embarrassed about was how you were talking earlier. What you _should_ have been embarrassed about was insulting the woman you claim to love, me, in front of Santana. _That_ was the shameful behavior. If you weren't embarrassed about that, I don't know why you would be embarrassed by her seeing you nude, or by taking a whipping in front of her."

"Yeah, Blondie, it's not like I haven't seen your naked ass before," Santana added. Quinn ignored her.

"I DO love you, Rachel," she said, meeting Rachel's eyes pleadingly. For a moment, Rachel softened.

"I know you do." She cupped Quinn's cheek gently in her hand, and Quinn couldn't help turning her head into the caress, kissing Rachel's palm.

"And that's why I know you'll do this. You hurt me, Quinn. Again." Quinn caught her lower lip between her teeth, torn. This was unacceptable, unbearable, for Santana to see her like this. But Rachel was right: she had agreed, and she did want to change. Quinn gave a slight nod of acquiescence, and Rachel stepped back briskly.

"That's my girl. Though, I should clarify: Santana wasn't asked here to watch. She will be the one administering said whipping."

Quinn blanched.

"You can't be serious."

"I wouldn't joke about that, Quinn," Rachel said, and Santana grinned.

"What was it you called me? 'Arrogant bitch'?" Quinn clenched her jaw at Santana's words and ignored her again, keeping her eyes on Rachel.

"Please, Rachel," she said quietly, doing her best to pretend Santana wasn't in the room. Rachel's eyes stayed cool, and she settled herself on Quinn's bed, arms crossed again.

"If you want to beg, Fabray, you should be focused on me," Santana said, stepping directly in front of Quinn. She swung the flogger to it hit her own hand gently, and Quinn saw the knots tied into the pliable leather. This was going to be very unpleasant.

"It's clear that my...discussions with you on this topic have not had the desired effect, Quinn. While singing requires me to maintain excellent aerobic conditioning, I think Santana's upper body strength supersedes my own."

"Count on it," Santana said, rolling her eyes at Rachel.

"I've asked her to ensure that this time, the lesson is sufficient."

"This is between us," Quinn tried one last time.

"You involved Santana when you spoke to her yesterday about things that were my business, Quinn. There is no reason she shouldn't be a part of the resolution as well."

"Now, where were we again?" Santana dropped the flogger lightly on Quinn's shoulder, and dragged it down her skin. Goosebumps appeared in its wake. "Oh yes, you were going on about what a slut I am..."

"Because you are," Quinn replied through gritted teeth, determined not to let Santana have the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Santana's grin widened, and she moved out of Quinn's line of sight to stand behind her.

"I was so hoping you'd say that." A moment later Quinn heard the whistle-snap of the flogger as it cracked across her upper back. Lines of white pain crashed through her and Quinn gasped, arching her back in a vain attempt to escape it. A moment later, another measured stroke landed just below the first and Quinn's breath hissed through her teeth as she fought to say silent. No time to catch her breath: another ruthless stroke halfway down her back. Quinn squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she squirmed uselessly. The fourth lash was straight across her ass and the tips of the flogger wrapped around her hip, eliciting the first whimper from her as she twisted, desperate to avoid the flogger. She could hear Santana's paced breathing behind her, and had worked out with the Latina enough to know that Santana was just getting going.

Another stroke. And another. Quinn couldn't keep the muffled yelps from escaping her lips. The first tears slipped down her cheeks through her tightly closed eyelids.

Rachel watched silently as Quinn struggled to avoid the blows lashing her backside. Santana had a precise rhythm, and Rachel couldn't help but notice how her neat form and measured forehand and backhanded blows were so evenly spaced. She knew even from her vantage point in front of Quinn that the stripes would likely be in equal lines from Quinn's shoulders to halfway down her thighs.

Quinn was a sight to behold. Her blond hair was tangled around her face, her cheeks streaked with tears. For a luxurious moment, Rachel allowed herself to admire the way Quinn's thigh muscles clenched as a stroke landed, her whole body quivering with pain and helplessness.

Rachel felt a sinking disappointment in her stomach as she realized something else, gazing upon the stiff set of Quinn's neck and jaw. Santana could whip Quinn all night, but the blonde was too stubborn and prideful to let the lesson sink in the way Rachel knew it needed to.

With a sigh, Rachel slipped off of the bed and onto her knees in front of Quinn, knowing what was needed. Quinn's eyes flew open at Rachel's movement, pleading with her as more tears slipped down her cheeks. Santana didn't break stride, and Rachel could see the tips of the flogger as it wrapped around the side of Quinn's ribcage, biting into her pale flesh.

Rachel stilled the blonde's helpless movements with a hand on each of her upper thighs, and Quinn's whimpers suddenly took on a different note as Rachel leaned forward and slipped her tongue into Quinn's welcoming moist folds.

With knowledge born of intimacy, Rachel's tongue found Quinn's clit easily and circled it. With each crack of the flogger she could feel Quinn's body tremble and shudder.

"No...please," Quinn pleaded, and Rachel knew Quinn understood: this would be her undoing. As Quinn's arousal grew, her defenses would crumble, leaving her even more vulnerable. "Please, Rachel, I can't..." Quinn gasped between soft grunts of pain. Rachel paused in her ministrations to look up at Quinn, brown eyes shining with tears of her own. She knew perfectly well what she was doing to Quinn, but she also knew it was necessary.

"Yes, love, you can, and you will."

Rachel turned her face back to the task at hand and leaned in closer, catching Quinn's clit between her lips and sucking it, flicking her tongue over it. She found a rhythm with the pulse of the blows landing harshly on Quinn's back. Quinn groaned loudly, her whole being protesting her impending orgasm.

"Please, no, please," she whimpered. Rachel continued to suck on her clit and Quinn's legs began to tremble. A moment later Rachel felt Quinn shudder against her as a low moan came from deep her in chest. She writhed in a very different way as the orgasm crashed over her, and then she began to sob, deep, wrenching sobs that shook her whole body.

"Sorry...Rachel...sorry...please..." her words were incoherent as aftershocks from her orgasm and the blows from Santana continued.

Rachel stood and moved back slightly. Quinn's knees had given out and most of her weight was on her arms. Reading her posture, Santana delivered a couple more lighter blows, then stepped back as well, the flogger at her side, her chest rising and falling as her breathing slowed.

Quinn didn't respond to the fact that the whipping had ceased. She continued to sob, unable even to catch her breath. With trembling hands, Rachel undid the ankle cuffs attaching Quinn's legs to the spreader bar. She reached for the wrist cuffs, fighting tears of her own as Quinn's broken cries tore at her own heart.

An olive-colored hand covered her wrist, staying it.

"I've got her," Santana said quietly.

"You don't understand," Rachel said, voice trembling. "She needs-"

"I've got her," Santana repeated more firmly. "Go out in the hall and get yourself together. What she _doesn't_ need is you crying." Rachel hesitated a moment, measuring the look in Santana's eyes. What she saw there satisfied her, because she nodded, and left the room quickly, wiping her eyes.

Santana undid the cuffs holding Quinn's wrists above her head. She caught Quinn easily as the girl sagged against her, still sobbing. Santana carried Quinn to the bed, and laid her on it, rolling her carefully onto her stomach. She took a brief moment to admire her handiwork: the lines on Quinn's back layered evenly from her shoulders to her thighs, stopping just high enough that Santana knew they wouldn't be seen when Quinn wore her Cheerios uniform.

Santana eased herself onto the bed next to Quinn, aware that any movement would be painful. She wiped Quinn's tears with the side of her thumb, stroked blonde locks of hair off of Quinn's flushed face.

As she murmured soothing words into Quinn's ear, her mind drifted slightly to another blonde, one who had left welts on Santana's own back before soothing and comforting her.

"She loves you, Q," Santana murmured softly. "Don't let her go. Don't let that stubborn pride ruin it all like I did." Quinn's sobs slowed to hiccups and for just a moment her hand found Santana's squeezing it tightly. Rachel stepped back in the room, and Santana stood, knowing her role was over. She headed for the door, but Rachel caught her arm.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "And...Santana, if you ever need something like this yourself..." Santana arched a perfect eyebrow at her, but Rachel's voice was firm. "You know where to find me."

Santana closed the door behind her, and for a moment leaned against it. Inside, she could hear Rachel murmuring softly to the chastened Quinn, and she knew their next hours would be full of tenderness and love.

Santana took a deep breath and wiped a tear quickly as she walked away.


End file.
